Paper Boats

“Could you read this poem out to me?”

Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running stream.
In big black letters I write my name on them and the name of the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flowers from our garden, and hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the little clouds setting their white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading is their baskets full of dreams.

– Rabindranath Tagore

During a sweltering summer afternoon, my younger sister- who sometimes is an adult but mostly a teenager, walks upto me with a book of poetry held loosely in her hand. She sinks next to me on the bed while I continued watched the fan over head churn and spit warm air around.
With her head rested on my raising and falling stomach and cotton stripped pyjama clad legs hanging lazily off the bed, she asked out of tired curiosity “Could you read this poem out to me?”. While a bit agitated, I agreed as there was nothing better at hand for me to occupy myself with.
There were no conversations that followed. Just the two of us, lost in our own lands of thought, counting the boats we have sailed to no specific destinations and longed for a response from the universe.
With a decade between the two of us, after a year of this summer afternoon, it still amuses me how age truly is just a number and how I (even now) continue to dwell in my own child-like fantasies hidden under the drapes of adulting.

Note:
1. Shiuli: also known as night-flowering jasmine and coral jasmine
2. Child-like: when an adult continues to have (nice) qualities of a child such as innocence and trustfulness

RESULTS

How you define success has a lot more to do with your feeling of achievement than the result itself.

With a huge number of teenagers and early adults receiving their scores in the present month in the month of May, each summer carrier the potential of transporting me back to a time when I faced the same fate.
I stood on the edge for hours a together, waiting for the fruits of my labour to be announced. Pondering if I had made silly mistakes. Fretting if I had not given my cent percent. Pulling at my inability to vividly remember what had been asked and how well had I tackled each shot.
And just as the time grew closer I started listing down all the reasons why this was important for me. Everything that had been told to me with the intent of motivating me suddenly started feeling like an extra pound on weight on my shoulders. Slowly it stopped mattering whether I had done a good job, what made me more nervous was whether I had done a job better than my counterparts. Oh! What a badly timed downward spiral it was.

Today, after a decade of receiving my higher secondary results and looking back at how far I’ve come from that day I have understood one thing.
Its not the percentage or the grades that have made me who I am today. It is what I chose to do with myself inspite of the grades that make me the person I am.
By no means am I saying that it is okay to not do your best, but it is essential to push yourself to the limit and then a little more, then the results you achieve should be accepted with open arms. Because somewhere, only when you know you have given it all that you got is it possible to not feel let down by yourself.

There are young adults who brand themselves based on the scores and parents who differently treat their children through comparison with others and then there are educators who segregate kids based on their memorising power.
This remains beyond me.
I have been a top scorer who through sudden turn of events struggled through high school to just float through the rest of my school life. I cannot and will not lie- it was difficult and sometimes even traumatising.

How did I survive?
My parents were my story of inspiration and my heroes. Even though they kept pushing me to work harder, sometimes through more harsher ways than the others; they made sure that I knew that they meant well. They were sensitive enough in their pursuit to know when I was reaching my limit.
But the inspiration was the fact that, two individuals with limited means and even more limited education, have been successful in creating a happy family, wealthy relationships and a respectable living. Through my childhood to early adulthood I had witnessed a wavering graph but most of it was growth. I had grown up seeing their humility and acceptance of their shortcomings while working hard each day with honesty and happiness.
Somewhere, I had started to believe that in is my character certificate that holds more weightage in life than my school marks certificate. But I also knew that if I could not improve one then I would have to work double hard with the other as I would be pushing a cart on a single wheel rather than having the support of both.

Today when I talk to my younger cousins and other students, I tell them only one thing:
Everything is equally important, make sure to create a neat balance. But don’t worry if you are falling short in one area because there are other areas which are your points of strength and can be used to your help with a little bit of faith and some confidence in yourself and the world.
Just make sure that you know where you place your happiness and that you use the right parameters to measure it. Sometimes even the most expensive car cannot buy you the contentment that a cup of tea being shared with well wisher.

The Tale of The Medicine Man

And just like that, baba walked away with a satisfied smile, after sharing this little tale with me.

A long time ago, in a village of modest means, there arrived a medical emergency that the local remedies could not fix. For the love of the ailing member of the community, the members responsible agreed upon sending a bullock cart to request the doctor from the adjacent village to pay a visit. The ailing member seemed to be spending his limited supply of breaths, very soon.
The village that was accustomed to believing that they are one huge extended family, was desperately waiting for the bullock cart to return. They were all waiting at small distances from the furthest end of the village to the bed side of the suffering, each trying to provide comfort in anyway possible.
However there was one man that sat aloof from the rest. Seemingly unbothered by the events of the village, seated on a high branch of a sky-scraping tree. Many swore at his dis-concern and some swore to isolate him once they had averted the crisis at hand.
The kids ran from house to house, to and from the furthest border of the village. Screaming heavy breaths, raising dust clouds and earning applauds from all the others. There was chit-chat of concern and prayers that could be heard on every street and alley. There were complains about the absence of any signs of the return of the cart with the doctor- every eight to ten minutes, which soon increased the volume of the over all chit-chat.
Suddenly there was a loud horn blown that silenced the co-habitants and got them back to a decorum of sorts. In a matter of few seconds, the little border guards saw a large cloud of dust raising and charging at a galloping speed. And just like that, the cart with its guest traveller sped through the lanes and alleys with all the villagers making way for it.
A few hours and rushed supplies later, the suffering had received due attention and the sufferer was resting his illness away. And as a matter of principle, to keep their word, the adults began to look for the one who showed no concern. They ordered him to climb off the summit of the tree and receive the judgement for betraying the community in its time of need.

As he was dragged to be publicly humiliated and receive his verdict on misconduct, the sound of claps and applause began to vibrate through the streets, everywhere he passed. By the time he reached the townhouse, the venue of verdict, he was announced as the ‘Miracle Man’!

And the ones who were willing to think beyond miracles understood that it was no miracle that he knew exactly when to sign the horn. He just was sitting on a higher place, with a longer range of sight- because of experience and knowledge.


And just like the Horn Blower, Baba walked away with a satisfied smile, after sharing this little tale with me.

I had been troubled with a decision and he had been asking me to listen to my gutt and have some trust in him. While I continued to say that I trust him with all my heart, I was still full of little doubts of uncertainty. While the situation increasingly stressed me out as I felt like a deer caught in head lights, who seemed to have lost her better judgement. On seeing me breakdown and complain that I couldn’t make a call instantaneously because the complexity was over whelming and the consequences to the decision would have the magnitude that I had never yet faced. I had complained that he was pushing me too far and not being understanding of my situation.

After watching me go on for a while, when he saw that I had calmed down a bit, he sat me down and combed his fingers through my hair. Applying calming pressure on my scalp and shared this tale with me. Without having to blow his own horn, he left me with something valuable.
He smiled when he saw that I had begun to connect the dots. He walked away when he was sure that I had begun to understand that the higher branch was symbolical of a higher level of wisdom that had come with a combination of knowledge and experience, not just a higher level of a hierarchy through age and power.

PROCRASTINATION

This one is special. It is an act that I often rely on. I’m not sure where it stands on the B&W scale, but it has helped me sometimes.

This one is special.

It is an act that I heavily rely on; is it a good thing, I’m not sure.

PROCRASTINATION

‘the action of delaying or postponing something’

it is a habitual and/or intentional delay of tasks despite its side-effects…

This means, to ignore doing things until the last minute or just avoiding them altogether. The idea of putting away a to-do list until the very last minute, giving task the chance to move from important to urgent before executing them.

Why is this word important?

Well, I procrastinated on writing the weekly post. I had known from a while that the fourth week of the current month was going to be tightly packed and also the fact that I am expected to give WW4.

And instead of attending to this important task when I had the time, I let it sit until the last minute aka I procrastinated. And here I am, now writing it when its developed a sense of urgency, instead of just importance.

This word is important to me because I’m acknowledging a behavioral pattern that I have and trying to address it. For me, the act of admitting to ones fault is the first sign of growth (In my head I’m hearing each reader say “More power to you!”… that’s me hoping)

While it seems all bad because I tend to sometimes under-perform in comparison to my potential. I miss out on time that could be used to improve the presentation and save me some last minute sprints. But, I’ve realized that procrastinating has its own small benefits. I don’t spend too much time planning the smaller things and don’t get the chance to sweat them either. It makes me a fast thinker who usually opts creativity to deal with the time deficit. It makes me live in the moment.

Guess then, I just need to learn to segregate tasks on which I can and cannot procrastinate!

Do you procrastinate as well?

Please do share your experiences and hacks of dealing with it.

Bonus: There are people who identify themselves as PROCAFFEINATORS.

These are the people who cannot get started with their day, work or life without first having their caffeine fix. Its a dependence of sorts.

PS: WW= Weekly Word

Asking

Thrive as a lone wolf or bloom in a pack, it is a matter of choice…

Its one week into the New Year and I’m feeling the energy of my resolution germinate into something new. But this something new is coming with its own challenges. The first and foremost being that this is a One Man Page- which means a single person’s point of view, creativity, ability and time.

While I’m aware that that’s what a personal blog means! I’m also beginning to realize that the only reason we “Sapiens” have out-lived our counterparts as chimpanzees and evolved into the phenomenal beings that we are today, is because of our ability to co-exist among hundreds of mutually exclusive groups. What’s more fascinating is that we have the ability to forge connections while continuing to remain exclusive.

All this is pleasing to hear and further affirms our position on the top of the food chain; what bugs me is my ability to ask.
There are many a times when I’m faced with a choice. A choice to be the lone wolf and complete the task at hand with an average or above average performance. Or to have other people pool in and make the result extra-ordinary, in comparison to my lone job.

Its a situation that has me in knots pretty easily. And in retrospect I’ve often found these knots rather laugh worthy.
Think about it… I’m uncomfortable asking for something that I know, in most cases, improves and even amplifies my experience. And to be rational in the face of the fear-of-asking to make oneself understand that I’m not afraid of the help, I’m just afraid of being rejected on asking. Think if a baby thought that way?
We could as well be crawling our way into old age with no real civilized skill-sets, but just scavengering, hoarding, splattering.. AKA back to being a Chimp!

And since its not a rant, I’m now getting to the point.

A few days ago, I texted a bunch of people who I’d love to get insights from and asked them for Help in writing a piece based on their area of interest and/or expertise….*knots*….*knots*…*knots*…. And then something happened!
Most of them replied with “That sounds like fun, lets plan something”… “I’m looking forward to collaborating with you”…. “I’ll be happy to contribute”.
And now I’m super excited to plan, schedule, collaborate, work and create things that are more than just me.

While this isn’t a post like the ones thus far, but it’s something I couldn’t not share.
Also, its like a re-instated belief in humanity (remember, that’s the religion/ lens that I’m re-discovering my world with?). There are downs but none without ups. There will be rejections but there is acceptance too; but neither will exist if I don’t ask!

And time for some NEWS: I’m usually scrolling down @Educated Unemployed Indian and human am I caught by your “Words have Power/ Word of the Day”! Love what you’re doing there.
So I’ve decided that I’m going to start something similar but just a tad bit different.
I’m going to pick a word every week (language no bar) and share it with all you fabulous readers with the meaning and a piece of my thoughts.
You are always welcome to suggest words from your own language!

My Religion, My Resolution

I got in bed an atheist but a conversation made me a believer before I could close my eyes.

One more year is about to begin with one more box full of memories to look back upon. With the temperature dropping and the festivities picking up, I’ve been feeling all sorts of things.

You know how I’ve spent nights being grateful* to this year. I’ve been introduced to a new phobia- the fear of not having any travel plans finalised, and have internalised it more than necessary. The RJs and everyone else are singing the jingles and discussing New Years Resolutions.

As a person in dilemma regarding my New Years Eve plans and a higher chance of spending it in my fuzzy socks and beanie with a book and some music, I’m gladly surprised that my procrastination over making resolutions has lead to an enlightenment of sorts. I’m a person who can day dream situations, events and detailed conversations. One such episode had me waking up with a religion while I’d gone to bed an atheist by general definition.

It was an episode of an imagined debate, backed by my take on religion (that it’s a tool of instilling fear in order to create order, which has long been used against the society for power), I realised something about my own belief system. While I’m not a believer of any specific, well-practiced school of religion and way of living, I do identify with bits and pieces of the religion that my family ardently follows.

In an entire debate staged in my mind where I’m arguing against the idea that all non-believers of the textbook religion are atheists, while my alter ego is trying its best to tell me that I’m an atheist and that’s all right! I knew that the debate was quite useless as it wasn’t leading up to anything. But hey! what better place to have such a redundant chat than the thinking seat on a winter night, when the touch of the ceramic against my backside had sent shiver up my back?

So I entertained my own banter, assured that this was the best way to take my mind off the weather and my cold seat. In no time, the banter spiralled and I was telling my alter ego that I’m a person of science and humanity, and that comprises my religion. This new turn of events made everything all the more interesting and suddenly it followed me into my bed at the dead of the night.

For the first time that night, I became an active observer to the antiques of my mind. i was now of the viewpoint that the world can do with one less parameter of division. Instead we are in dire need of a common ground to come together. While climatic change and cruelty against animals is doing their bit, I advocated that right now there is a need for something bigger!

And that’s when I mouthed the word ‘HUMANITY’!

I’d suddenly convinced myself in the charade of this day dream, that Humanity is the religion that the world needs. Don’t get me wrong, all the existing religions are amazing in their own way and I in no way think that they need to be done away with. All I mean is that the primary religion of each individual should be humanity while their sub-religion could belong to their choice of God and Scriptures.

While I haven’t yet the clarity of what this religion will entail, I do have something that are pretty clear.

This would mean placing people and their feelings before things and my attachment to them.

This would mean being more considerate and less demanding.

This would mean sharing rather than scavenging.

This would mean being polite…

POLITE.Yes, that’s what it’s got to mean!

And quickly I came up with three basic ways how I’m going to be polite and try to spread my new found religion.

1. Instead of saying “sorry I’m late”, I’m going to practice thanking “Thank you for waiting for me”.

2. Instead of letting someone know that “Hey, you’re real bossy”, I’m going to try “You have great leadership skills and I just had an idea…”

3. Instead of losing my mind and saying “Leave me alone” I’m going to attempt a “Can I have a minute/some time to myself, before we continue to/with…”

Of course, three changed habits are not going to change the world, but I’m willing to believe that this attempt will change one heart at a time.

So here’s The Hazy Whisperer signing off for this year and looking forward to a more engaging and productive new year with all of you!

The above have now become my resolution for the years to come and if you have any thoughts to contribute to Humanity- a global religion, please do share.

A fruitful and comforting new year to all of you!!

Churning Wheels

“Humans see what they want to see.”
― Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief

I sat there in the evening breeze looking out the balcony, changing my view from the carved metal railing to a monochromatic sky as my feet pushed the swing back and forth. My companion, pushing along- in sync with my feet, was a straight A, trophy hoarding, an apple of everyone’s eye kind of person. In the company of heavy silence, where the grey skies seemed to be mimicking us, my sense of self was undergoing a metamorphosis of sorts. My self-concept wasn’t altered much at its crest, but it did change attire as our seldom-worded conversation progressed.

It first began with being a small bundle of rather morbid feeling nerves. I mean, the only straight ‘A’ that I’ve been consistent with is the last alphabet in my name! Slowly, after some self-cheering I realised that I couldn’t possibly be all that gloomy, I mean I do have people who love me despite all my flaws. Don’t the bees only stick around if there is some honey to have? So there had to be some amber in me.

Over the seconds that bloomed into minutes and blossomed into an hour, I found myself feeling happy about my muddy pond even if it wasn’t a golden bowl. Don’t get me wrong; I did not dim out the star to make my glow bug bum look brighter. I just started to realise that both our sparkles glow well, just in our own unique colours. In this mental monologue I had come to also realise that there was something disturbingly different about our independent sparkles- could it be that mine was in my eyes and his was in the eyes of the people that looked at him?

Being the hopeless romantic that I am, with the desire for a story, my violent curiosity uttered the first audible dialogue- “What’s wrong?”

Were those the right words, should I have bothered, will this have a desired response, was there a happy ending at the end of this- I was still unsure.

Well, the first response was an instant passé smile; as if asking me to mind my own business in the most gentlemanly manner known to mankind. But some delicate prodding by shamelessly extending an expectant look with sub-zero words uttered, changed the direction of vocal dialogue delivery.

What began with a sigh, went onto being a jumble of words trying desperately to catch up with the speedy mixed thoughts and thoughtful pauses. He said, “I’m not sure what it is. Its like- I design cars from the scratch and yet your joy of driving a hand-me-down is far more potent than what I feel… You know, I’ve achieved more that most people my age and have never done anything that I’m embarrassed of- not that I’m trying to boast. Everyone’s parents wish for their kids to be like me, my parents couldn’t be more proud of me… Sorry, I’m just rambling… Uh, I’m just not feeling it! I have all reason to be happy, but I am not. You know what I mean?.. Or not?… I’m sure I sound like a loony right now. Forget whatever I just said. I don’t seem to make sense to myself sometimes… What I’m trying to say is that your smile intimidates me.”

And just like that the tables had been turned, roles reversed.

Now I was the one with a passé smile while he just gave expectant glances and gallons of empty silence for me to fill.

There sure were thoughts in my head. There were appropriate questions that I could ask. There was just one little problem- too many wheels had started to turn at once. It felt like my brain was supplying so much data to my tongue at once that it couldn’t choose the best alternative to provide as an output. Now I was lost, not for thought, but because I had too many thoughts that prevented my clarity of thought, you know what I mean?

And just like that I knew I was going to need some time to declutter and better compartmentalise my reaction…

*continued at http://www.thehazywhisperer.com/2018/11/12/churning-wheels-potion-quotient

The Storm

That’s what the storm is all about!

And once the storm is over,

you won’t remember how you made it through,

whether the storm is really over.

But one thing is certain – when you come out of the storm,

you won’t be the same person who walked in.

That’s what the storm is all about.

– Murakami

Hill Climb

After a while of aimless walking and wandering about, feeling like characters of an improv, in a setting drastically different from our regular, on a lazy Sunday morning…

During one fateful monsoon, I visited Dharamshala in a song like weather. Everything in this little Himachal town was picturesque- the rustic winds, the quality atmosphere and the calm of the hills. The view was warmly accommodating, almost like a welcome with open arms. It was the perfect mood for the cuddles, to stay bundled in cushioned beds and yet so appropriate for the wanderers to get lost. The Tibetan ensemble of the town gave it a foreign land feel and the weather was the right amount of soothing.

A group of three, we were well spread on the general tourist behaviour continuum. There are the kind who are just so over-joyed with the spirit of vacation that they can’t sit still for long. These are the ones who will have a checklist for the trip and will try to cut down on sleep just for that little extra. Then there are the ones who like to soak in all the energy they spend on a regular basis; the ones that just snuggle in and sleep to their heart’s content and rejuvenate through resting, if not hibernating. And then there are the ones who do a little of both and fall right in the middle of this continuum.

Ma- the one on snooze; decided to stay cooped up with an old book that I’ve seen her read multiple times and some masala chai. In awe with the place, Baba- the one in the middle of the continuum, and I- the hyper active checklist holder; tightened our trainers and started to explore the hills. No destination in mind and no plans at hand, we decided to see where the mixture of hills, greens and clouds would lead us.

To my utter satisfaction, I was ticking off many things on my informal list on a single stroll- walking on clouds, watching the far mountain snow glow lava as the first rays of morning sun hit it, hearing water flow as we sat listening to birds chirping, walk in the deserted lanes before they got crowded, clicked a gazillion pictures so I remember how beautiful the place is, made a bunch of wild flowers and growths to press into my book, heard the silent music of the town, observed the houses with their colour schemes and the setting of the place, filled my lungs with the uniqueness and tried to memorise the collective feeling of it all.

After a while of aimless walking and wandering about, feeling like characters of an improv, in a setting drastically different from our regular, on a lazy Sunday morning, we started to head back to our hotel room with the idea of some comforting tea and breakfast enticing us, as we desperately covered our ears from the surprise wind and the constant drizzle.

The uphill climb was a lung burner. We stopped by the very rocks where I has fascinatedly looked at the moss and baba thought I was crazy. Suddenly, I heard him say to himself,
“There is no better teacher than a walk in the nature. Every time we walk down the hill we are ramrod straight with arrogant broad shoulders, head held high with no appreciation for our lungs. Its only when we walk up, well, we bend, look humble and ask each breath to take it easy on us. And its only the uphill walk, the one that all of us dread, that gives us the best view there is. It’s such a beautifully detailed graph”.

I’m not sure if he was talking to me or just thinking out loud. We never spoke of it. But from time to time, I revisit that moment, when my lungs start to burn and I don’t yet see the view that the hill climb holds for me.

… because when a thought first occurs, it is organised into ideas and plans, and then transformed into reality. But the beginning really is in your imagination…

IMG_20170902_154647328

The Grand Plan

‘most businessmen make the mistake of not spending enough thought and time on creating the pragmatic framework for their future dream… instead they become content in being the everyday problem solvers’

Have you felt grateful recently?

Well, I’ve been feeling grateful and fortunate for some time now.

I feel fortunate for having have had the chance to grow up with my grandparents around and still living with them as a constant in our life.

Off late, I’ve been spending far more time with them than I have in the past decade; what with the hierarchy of education year after year. Our conversations have transformed from fairytales, mythological lessons and stories of good morals to the comfortably shared silence while reading the morning newspaper while sipping on tea, a certain amount of spiritual banter, the stories of their youth and dreams for my future.

We all struggle with finding common grounds due to generation gap and yet skipping a generation can be surprisingly very companionable. Maybe because I’m the interest on their principle. Maybe because that’s the magic of a grandparent-grandchild relationship. Maybe because they find traces of their youth in my today, and I see a way into my future through their experiences.

While the time I spend with them remains valuable for me and hopefully cherished by them; the more time that I spend with them, the more I think about a particular saying by a management guru. The quote translates to-

‘most businessmen make the mistake of not spending enough thought and time on creating the pragmatic framework for their future dream… instead they become content in being the everyday problem solvers’

Lets assume that each human being is an entrepreneur and their life is their enterprise, the legacy to which are their years post retirement. Then their life partner/ spouse becomes their business partner through a merger of sorts and together they create subsidiaries in the form of off-springs.

While many may argue that most entrepreneurs save for their now metaphorical legacies through monetary investments, by building a home with children, friends and relatives- but my question still lingers. Is that enough though- to be fed, with a shed and bed? To have people around and enough emergency funds that you cut corners for? Is that really all the investment needed for realizing the mirage of future that you’ve wanted to turn into reality as a legacy where your longest companion is the partnership; and this time without the proprietary duties. In the even longer run, one of the two usually comes back to being an independent owner, too.

Have you ever asked a preschooler or a middle school student about their plans for themselves when they grow old? I did. I tried. Their imagination seems to extend, or rather is limited, only upto higher education and occupation. When nudged a little further maybe until realizing the wandering fantasies and having a family of their own of which they are the omnipresent member. This reminds me of most feel good movies, where the curtains fall just at the happy moment, the coming together of two lovers or the achievement of a difficult target, but very rarely- if ever, do they show what happens after the protagonist has achieved their longest term goal. What happens when two people, who have built their entire life one benchmark after another, are left with all the time in the day with no tangible benchmarks to rise to?

How do you live day after day when the daily work that defined your being has been declared outdated; instead is now just a measuring tool of you past? So when I asked a bunch of people a second question about what is their plan from their now to the moment when they materialize their mirage into reality- it suddenly became a serious conversation. It lost the dreamy element. Some had a vague idea, some thought they’d figure it on the way, some said they didn’t think there was much to think about.

When I say I want to be a physically active person through my 60s to my 70s and 80s, I mean that I wish to be comfortably mobile and not bed ridden; and it should also imply that I need to start being a physically active and disciplined person today. Similarly, when I say that I plan on travelling my life’s worth post retirement and enjoy all the hobbies that I’m skipping now, shouldn’t I take the time to occasionally participate in both these areas to understand what travel means to me and know which activities I can call hobbies. With the age and the cognitive ability for being experiment being at odds, I’m not sure if I should be leaving so many untapped areas for the wrinkle days. I mean I don’t wish for the activities intended to entertain myself to feel like time killing ways.

Some say that once they retire, they will resume their honeymoon period that they had to cut short in their prime years. Doesn’t that mean that they need to start learning today about how they like each others’ company and how to make the most of it even without a to-do list and agendas to achieve for the day, week, month and year?

And if all this hustle is for a golden tomorrow, then why are we so quick to shy away from the years we’ve invested our entire life for? Why use getting old as a mocking metaphor rather than a cherished hope? Why fret the greys that’ve begun to crawl out? Why treat them as years lost while they are the years that you’ve invested in order to earn experience and growth?

Maybe there is a conditioned need to feel relevant and at the helm of everything.

Maybe there is a habit of calculating self-worth through the quanta of work done rather than enjoying the quality created through the labour of past.

Maybe because we are so used to believing that we are the controller of our life and fixer of glitches, that the uncontrollable, inevitable makes us uncomfortable.

Maybe along the way we forgot to associate being old with anything that would hold appeal to us at that point of time in our lives.

Maybe because we were so busy being young and pumped that we lost sight of the fact that time will shrink us too.

Maybe because we often keep defining ourselves through associations to our firm skin and pores and seldom spend time developing an accepting foresight of the shriveled bones and ridged skin.

Maybe because we have played an active role in propagating and strengthening the belief that not running the company is the end of the company through unintended or unconscious acts, thoughts and words.

*comment with a song that explains how this made you feel